DATE: 11/02/2004 09:25:00 AM
The following exchange occurred last night in a dream I had, and for some reason I remember it quite vividly:
A. This stinks.
B. Unless you're a dung beetle.
There's a little blog I found by using the "Next Blog" button (a feature I really can't promote enough) called Pirate Aggro. I've left him comments (I've been the only commenter each time) and he doesn't answer. Sometimes I think he doesn't want anyone to be reading his blog and he's hoping I'll go away. But it won't happen as long as he writes entries like this one.
A painting called The Hands Resist Him, painted by artist Bill Stoneham in 1972, was recently sold on eBay, according to Pirate Aggro:
...The seller found the painting abandoned behind an old brewery. He took it home and, for God knows what reason, hung the painting in his 4-year-old’s room. One day his child reported that the children in the painting had been fighting and were keeping her up. Later he claimed to capture a photograph of the little boy outside of the painting. The starting bid price for the painting was something like $60 and it ultimately sold for more than $1000...
Aggro also put up a picture of the painting, and a link to the artist's website. Here's what the artist has to say about it:
Where to begin? Well I've always had a connection to what Carl Jung called the collective unconscious. I think we all do. Artists, especially visual artists, are barometers for the currents which run through this collective. Dreams are a common experience people may have with this. Anyway, my own experience is a sensitivity to place– physical, geographical place. There are memories, echoes of all the life within a place. Maybe it's what's called channeling. When I painted the Hands Resist Him in 1972, I used an old photo of myself at age five in a Chicago apartment. The hands are the 'other lives.' The glass door, that thin veil between waking and dreaming. The girl/doll is the imagined companion, or guide through this realm.
Both the owner of the Gallery where 'Hands' was displayed and the Los Angeles Times art critic who reviewed my show were dead within a year of the show.
I'm sure it was coincidence, but some of what I paint resonates in other people, opening the inner door, or basement. By the way, I still have no idea what happened to the character actor who bought the painting at the show (editor note: it was John Marley who died in 1984), or how it ended up abandoned in a building, though I could speculate. - Bill
According to the e-Bay seller, interviewed on the website Surfing the Apocalypse:
I wish I could report a bizarre happening or mind possession type of thing, but the unusual things started happening with the first email and counting. Prayers and quotes from the scriptures from a man of faith. Advice as how to cleanse my residence of this evil thing from a Native American Shaman in Mississippi. Reports of people being repulsed, made physically ill, or suffering from a black out/mind control experiences. I've been informed that over 34,000 people on Ebay alone have viewed this item. People want to know how can I live with this sort of " thing ", or want to buy a life size reproduction. If anything, this is the real story. I had never received an email before that wasn't from some on-line pornsite. And the only apparent reason I get these is because I fit the profile.
Creepier still, here's Aggro's reaction:
I have, however, become obsessed with the painting. I set it as my wallpaper on my computer, contrary to warnings not to do so, and have spent a lot of time looking at it and making everyone I know look at it.
Now why do I put all this up here on my blog? I'm not, after all, normally the type of person who believes in paranormal psychobabble. But the second I clicked over to Aggro's blog and my eyes fell on this painting, I had a reaction that surprised even me. I had never seen the painting before, and it was on Aggro's blog in miniature. Aggro's text is below where the painting is posted, so it was the first thing I saw there.
It's hard to describe how I felt about it. But the feelings hit me with a jolt. I was overwhelmingly repulsed and unnerved by the picture. Even in doing the necessary revisiting of pages to write this post, and being forced to look at the picture again--over and over again, actually, and in detail--is almost more than I can handle. If you do a Google search, you can find out more, and, of course, see the painting for yourself. I'm not posting it here, and I'm not looking at it again today.